“You have me.”
She smiled. “I have you.”
“And my family. Maggie loves you already.”
Rand might be overstating things, but now that she’d met Maggie, Kira understood why Rand had been certain his sister would accept her into the fold. Maggie was warm and kind and shared her brother’s sense of humor.
“And you have Freya,” Rand added.
She nodded. She and Freya had dinner, just the two of them, two nights ago and it had been everything they both had needed for the last twenty years. They’d laughed and cried and looked at photos from their shared childhood.
Kira had confessed that one reason she’d desperately wanted to be a Valkyrie was to win Freya’s respect. Freya had tearfully said Kira had always had that, and she was sorry she never made it clear. She’d been too afraid to address what Apollo had done out of fear of embarrassing and hurting Kira. And so the chasm that separated them grew wider.
Freya had also assured her that Valkyrie assignments that fit Kira’s skillset were hers for the taking.
At some point, Kira would probably take her up on that offer, but for the next few months, her focus was going to be settling her parents’ estate and moving to Virginia Beach. With her inheritance, she could afford this time off to focus on her relationship with Rand and her mental health.
Questions had been raised by government officials investigating the Kuliks and Laskins about whether or not she intended to attempt a claim on the Kulik billions, and she’d assured everyone she had no interest in Luka’s money or name.
She was Kira Hanson, daughter of Conrad and Anna Hanson.
She stared at the portrait of herself her mother had painted five years ago and felt Anna’s presence, the love that had infused each brushstroke.
As her mother had hoped, Kira wasn’t alone. Her mom and dad would always be in her heart. And she might not have living blood relatives, but she had Freya and the Valkyries. Rand and his SEAL team.
She’d gone to Malta in search of family connections and had found them—unfortunately—in spades. But it really hadn’t been until she returned to Virginia that she’d identified the people who comprised her real, true family.
Epilogue
It arrived in the mail eight weeks after they’d returned from Malta and just days after the two men who’d abducted Kira last December cut a deal with the prosecutor and entered guilty pleas in the matter of her abduction. They would each serve a minimum of fifteen years. Twenty-five if they never made parole.
The main trial still waited, but at least she’d only have to testify about her ordeal once. And then, when that was over, Kira and Rand could take a trip.
Anywhere in the world.
She ripped open the cardboard envelope and turned it to the side. Her new little blue book of freedom fell into her hand.
Rand entered the room. “Whatcha got there?”
She held it up, so happy, she might burst. “The State Department sent it by express mail.”
He grinned. He knew exactly how desperate she was to receive a new passport to definitively confirm her citizenship.
Decades ago, the CIA had cut a deal with Conrad and Anna and provided a false birth certificate for Kira, giving her fake citizenship. This had been confirmed by the CIA officer who’d been Conrad Hanson’s handler for the last decade of his life. The man had attended Conrad’s funeral but left when he recognized Freya from the scandal that ended her career with the agency.
The deal to give Kira citizenship had been signed off on by the State Department, who’d appreciated the intel her mother had provided and understood the risk to mother and daughter should they be sent back to Russia.
Kira could have continued using the passport she got last May, but her birthdate was three years and two months off. And so, with the help of Freya, the CIA, and NSWC, they’d appealed to the State Department. Like her mother before her, she’d done the US a service in gathering intel.
The result was in her hands. She opened to the laminated page with her photo and passport number and checked the date. She grinned and held it to her chest. “I get to remain thirty-six for another month.”
Rand pulled her to him. “This might be the longest anyone has ever been thirty-six, then. Four years and two months since your first thirty-sixth birthday?”
“Well, technically, I was also thirty-seven, thirty-eight, and I spent ten months at thirty-nine before the clock set back.”
“Talk about your daylight savings.”
“I have saved so much time.”
“I think we should waste a little.”
“Oh, what do you have in mind?”
He took the passport from her hand and set it on the table, then scooped her up. “What do you say we spend the rest of the weekend in bed?”
“It’s Wednesday.”
“But you’ve banked a lot of weekends.”
“Fair.”
He carried her up the stairs to their bedroom and set her on her feet in front of the bed. He stood before her, smiling down. “In Malta, I suggested that if we couldn’t sort out your citizenship, one solution was to marry me.”
“I’m not sure that would have worked.”
“But it would have been fun.” He grinned and nipped at her shoulder. “I guess I have no reason to propose now except the most important one.” He dropped to one knee and pulled something from his pocket.
